Sketch in Three Moods
by inalasahl
Summary: Simon's annoyed, Simon's aroused, Simon's sad, and Mal is there for it all. (Complete)


The characters and world of Firefly belong to Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon and a bunch of other people I don't know.  
Acknowledgements: Thanks to raynedanser for the beta and my chat jeesh for suggesting how to get Simon's shirt off in Mal's presence.  
Written for the Simon Tam ficathon.

* * *

"Argh," Simon grunts as his hands, slick with blood, fumble awkwardly at the buttons of his vest. He has ruined another outfit that he can't afford to replace, and he almost _died._

"Tianna," Mal says. "Let me help you with that." Two swift tugs that have Simon screwing his eyes shut and clamping his mouth down to stop an inelegant scream of pain and he's suddenly naked from the waist up. 

"You are an ass," Simon grinds out. "An ass." The wave passes and he blinks cautiously. Mal's staring stupidly at his chest. "What?" Simon bites out. 

"Huh?" Mal lifts his head slowly, and Simon waits patiently with no cursing or sarcasm for the question to filter through Mal's brain. When it does-- When it does the bastard smiles wolfishly. "Oh, I was just admiring your chest, Doc. No wonder you wear so many layers. Word got out about a chest like that, and you'd be jumped by every man and woman 'tween here and Boros." 

Simon is going to throttle Mal the very second he manages to make his fingers work properly again. "If you're done playing mock-the-Doctor, the _bleeding_ man could use a little help." 

Mal's teasing grin disappears immediately. "What do you need?" 

"A few weaves," Simon replies. "And something to wash this blood away. I think it's just a long scratch, really, but I can't quite see." Mal dampens a sponge at the basin and starts to dab gently at Simon's cut. Simon snatches the sponge away, gritting "The weaves are in the top right-hand drawer, Captain." He knows he's being rude, but frankly, he doesn't care. Wash told him; Zoe told him. Hell, even Jayne told Mal that it was a stupid plan, but the man refuses to listen to anyone. A few rough swipes that set the wound to throbbing and Simon can see well enough to examine the cut that runs from his left shoulder to just under his ribs on the right. "Shi," Simon curses. It's going to scar in places. It's a ridiculous position for him to try to set a weave in, and Mal couldn't do a proper weave if he had a guidebook and three hands. 

"What's wrong?" Mal snaps. Simon looks up at him and realizes the captain has gone pale. 

Simon supposes he could try to be a little nicer after all. "Nothing, nothing," he replies, putting the weaves on as best he can. "It's just a scratch as I said." He can't resist complaining, though. "But it's going to scar." 

Mal starts breathing again and scoffs. "Well, if that's all ... an attractive scar like that, and we'll have to start putting you in a space suit all day long or I'm liable to jump you myself." 

But Simon's in no mood to joke. "Does everyone you meet get the urge to kill you?" he asks, snatching up the tattered remains of his clothing. "I'm going to wash this blood off me," Simon says. "And then I'm going to take a nice long nap." He stalks out of the room without waiting for an answer. 

"Seems that way," Mal whispers to no one in particular.

* * *

Mal's talking about him again, and Simon's had enough. "All over?" Simon says with a yawn. "Are you positive?" He looks Mal square in the face and widens his eyes innocently. "Maybe you'd like to check." Now it's Mal's turn to blush and look disoriented. Oh, this is fun, Simon thinks. Probably the most fun he's had in his entire life, and while he's never liked attention he's always liked men, so it doesn't bother him one bit to sidle closer to Mal and let their breaths mingle. Simon grins and watches the tables turn. Mal takes a step back. 

It stops being fun the third or fourth time Simon tries it. Mal hollers at him to cut it out and tromps away down the hall. Simon's annoyed. Mal doesn't have to sound so _disgusted._ He's about ready to shout after him a reminder that Mal's the one that started this little game when he realizes that the stiff way Mal's walking can't possibly be all due to anger. Simon's a doctor, after all, and he knows his anatomy fairly well. So, instead of shouting after him, he runs after him. Mal doesn't have a chance to utter more than a startled "grrnn," before Simon's on him, pulling Mal flush against his body so Simon can feel the erection he knew was there. Their lips meet in a kiss, and there are moans and gasps and tianna, hands. Simon doesn't give Mal a chance to think, pushing him hastily into the closet behind the infirmary. It's quick and rough--it's been too long, too damn long for both of them. But Simon's got a crazy grin when it's over and he lays his face against the sweaty crook of Mal's neck. 

"Simon," Mal begins in a tone dark enough to set Simon frowning. "I--you--we--" Mal stammers ineffectually long enough for Simon to worry that he got it wrong somehow. He hasn't done this all that many times before. When it came right down to it in fact, if _this_ was rough sweaty grinding upright sex in a closet, well, he's _never_ done _this_ before. 

Mal takes a deep breath. "I don't believe in relationships amongst the crew." It disturbs Simon no end that it's too dark for Mal to see the incredulous look on his face. "Is that all?" Simon asks. 

"All?" Mal repeats, and it's suddenly too damn funny. 

"Is--"--Snicker--"That--"Snort.--"All?" And Simon's laughing like a loon, like a moon brain as Mal pulls open the door and they tumble out. "Tianna, you scared me," Simon burbles. "I thought you were going to say something _important."_ Mal clearly doesn't know what to make of the insane laughing man, and somehow that makes Simon laugh even harder. 

He's still laughing, in fact, later that evening when he tumbles down the ladder into Mal's bunk and procedes to change Mal's mind.

* * *

He can't save them both, Simon realizes. He shouts up to Mal to save River first, but River makes her own decision, lifting her hand as if to grasp Mal's straining fingertips. She lifts her hand and waves. Simon doesn't even have time to finish shouting "no" before she steps backward off the rocking scaffold into the nothing below. 

They don't speak on the way back to the ship. They don't speak when they get to the ship. Mal stays behind to explain to the questioning crew, but Simon just keeps on walking, collapsing in a heap when he gets to his bunk. 

River's body is lying in a canyon near Hancock and Simon is lying on his bed. He hears the door, but he ignores it. Even when Mal comes to sit down on the bed, hesitantly, Simon keeps staring intently at the ceiling. Simon snarls when Mal reaches out a comforting hand. "Don't touch me. Don't me you ever touch me." Mal pulls back in shock and blank hurt. "I told you," Simon said. "I told you to save her. And you--" his voice catches. "You let her die." 

They co-exist on the same ship, but pass in the halls as strangers. Mal tries. A dozen times, at least, to talk, to make it right. But at night Simon sees River waving goodbye and falling, falling, falling. There are no words to erase _that._

Zoe has her baby. Simon manages to do all the correct doctor things. They name her River. Simon chokes back the rising bile and manages to thank them while sounding properly touched. His core upbringing is still good for some things out on the rim. 

It is more than Mal can take. He appears one night in Simon's bunk, and leans over the curled up man on the bed. "Don't do this. Don't you dare freeze me out," Mal says. "You started this. I didn't even want--you made me care, and you can't take it away now. I swear. I swear I'll hate you forever, because it hurts and it's--And I know how it is. I know how it feels. I've loved and lost more folk than you could ever imagine, you prissy core hundan. But it stopped hurting, and I didn't care about anything. And you made me--and I'll hate you forever if you don't stop. Because if you don't--if you don't stop--" Mal was crying now and his words were impossible to understand. He bawled. "I miss her, too. And Zoe does, and Kaylee, and everyone. And you can't do this, because you're all we have left of her, and it's like we've lost you too. And I can't--I can't lose you. Please, Simon." This time when he reaches out a hand, Simon doesn't pull away. And he lets Mal see that his own eyes are wet. 

"It hurts," Simon agrees. "And I don't know what to do, because she was everything I ever did." He holds Mal's lowered head in his hands. "I'm sorry," Simon says. "I blamed you, because I knew it was my fault. You couldn't save us both, and I should've jumped first before she did." 

Mal looks up then, sharp and quick. "Tianna, no baobei, no--" 

"Shhh," Simon continues. "I should have. In any case, it wasn't your fault. But it hur--" and Simon's voice is cut off as his throat closes up, and for the first time since that terrible day the tears overflow and splash everywhere. "I want--I can't--" All Simon's life, it's been River who's brought him out of himself. River who told him to stop working so hard. River who made him laugh. River who hugged his hurts away. Without her, Simon doesn't know how to stop. 

He doesn't know how exactly, but Mal knows what he's thinking. "I'm not her," Mal says. "But I--I can do that. I want to try, anyway. Do you remember when you said it to me? You made me a promise, Simon, and you've got to keep it, because I--." Mal kisses the salt from Simon's cheeks in supplication. "You have to let me try." 

This time it is slow and gentle, and Simon moans his completion into Mal's mouth. River's body lies in a canyon near Hancock, and Simon falls asleep curled in Mal's arms.

The End 


End file.
